


Vibrance

by Voido



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gym, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, cockblock-futaba, just bros being dudes, naked hugs, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: When Ryuji invites him to hit the gym together the moment they're reunited, Akira expects a lot. Somehow, them being all over each other against the shower wall isn't precisely what he's initially had in mind, but he's far from foolish enough to mind it.





	Vibrance

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for Mep, who somehow managed to put a ton of focus on the words _gym-shower kisses_ in another fic of mine.  
>  I hope you like this, and I hope whoever else reads this does, too.  
> Thanks to lod for editing and entertaining me while I was writing this! <3

When they first meet after weeks of being apart, their greeting is passionate, almost tender. They stay in each other’s arms for minutes without even looking up, without letting go, without letting anyone take this one sacred moment from them.

“Let’s wear ourselves out, man.”

Akira’s still groggy from the train ride, tired of his time alone, exhausted from how long he’s been waiting to come back here, but even so, he doesn’t hesitate before nodding, hums in agreement, digs his nails into the fabric of Ryuji’s slightly oversized sweater one last time, takes in his smell just once more before letting go and smiling approvingly.

"You brought spares?”

"Y-yeah. I guess.”

They both chuckle and head over to Shibuya in wordless consent, entering _Protein Lovers_ without even so much as _looking_ at anything else. The place is empty, as always this late in the evening, and Akira is grateful for that, because it feels somewhat more private; having been away from Tokyo for so long, he’s not used to crowds anymore.

Even though it’s been weeks, their workout is the same as always. They run together for warm-up and stamina training, then lift weights taking turns spotting each other. There’s no denying that Akira has been slacking, because he isn’t in half as good shape as he used to be. Eventually, when they switch positions, Ryuji boxes his shoulder roughly, grinning widely, and gives him a judging look.

“Just ‘cause I ain’t around doesn’t mean ya can stop trainin’. Don’t forget I’ll get ya back at it once you return for good.”

Akira smiles in return and nods. He’s panting heavily, watches Ryuji increase the weights on the barbell, lets his own eyes linger on sweat drops slowly running down the stiff muscle, and forces himself to look up when he sees Ryuji do the same.

"Ya wanna stop?”

"It’s fine.”

"Nah, dude. Lemme just get these reps done, ‘kay?”

Akira nods, silently glad that they’re done for now. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy their workouts — because really, he does — but it feels like forever since they last saw each other, and if he claimed the sight of a sweaty, panting, weight-lifting Ryuji didn’t make him feel _something_ , he’d be a dirty liar.

He decides that tonight is definitely one for a _cold_ shower.

There’s a few other guys in the changing room, but at least the shower is empty — as to be expected, since it’s not necessarily the _comfiest_ one he’s ever seen. Normally, he’d get wanting to shower at home, but right now, he’s twice as sweaty as he’d like, still worn out from the day and the train ride, and he knows if they go meet Sojiro and Futaba like this, he’ll be judged for not coming home _before_ hitting the gym.

He smiles weakly at the thought of them reprimanding him over something so irrelevant while pulling him into a loving hug. It’s good, though. He can’t wait for it.

Cold water runs down his spine, his forehead leaning against the cool tiles on the wall when he hears naked feet step on the wet floor. There’s something so distinctive about the way Ryuji walks that Akira doesn’t even have to look up — or maybe it’s because he’s found himself listening to it so many, many times before. Either way, he only looks over when he hears another shower head going off, and can’t help but stare at the way his best friend leans against the wall in relief, eyes closed and fingers drumming on the tiles to an unheard beat, his chest moving evenly, calmly. He’s as relaxed as always when they’re here, yet somehow, there’s a sort of invisible tension coming from him.

Thinking about it, Akira feels the same tension washing through himself, too. The urge to move almost haunts him, has him reaching out mindlessly until he’s an inch short of touching Ryuji’s shoulder, but then he stops himself. Even then, what would he say? What justification does he have to make things difficult all out of sudden, when they really don’t need to be? Why is he so confused, why does he want to close the gap between them, why does the voice in his head scream at him to move, to trace the wet skin, cover it with his own and feel the heat of not only the water engulf them in something that’s so much _more_ than _friends showering after a workout_?

He lets his head knock into the wall lightly once without even looking away, and flinches when Ryuji’s eyes fly open to stare back at him.

"Dude, you okay?”

Akira nods, but honestly, he isn’t sure. His heart is racing; just the thought of having to leave again one of these days hurts, and knowing that they’re this close and there’s _still_ an unseen barrier somewhere between them makes nothing easier.

Eventually, his nod turns into shaking his head, which must effectively look as if he’s turning his head in a sloppy circle, and maybe that’s why Ryuji chuckles, moves and reaches out for his shoulder to keep him on his feet, and maybe that’s also why Akira lets himself fall forward just enough to be caught by his friend, head lying on his shoulder for support.

It’s far from their first hug, but it’s definitely their first _naked, in a public shower_ hug and that’s already enough for Akira to swallow and take a deep breath. Somehow, he’d expected their reunion to be easier, but here he is, pining uselessly, desperately trying to find the guts to say something, to move or do _anything_.

Instead, though, he listens to the heartbeat he can feel right against his ear, feels his breath adjust to the one that brushes against his skin, lets his hands linger somewhere on his own chest in order not to reach out desperately. Leaning his cheek against Ryuji’s, he realizes that it’s as warm as his own if not worse, enough so to make Akira pull away and bring a decent distance between their faces. Normally, he wouldn’t dare assume it, but right now, judging by the way Ryuji turns his head away with a scowl on his face, Akira _knows_ that there’s at least _something_ unsaid between them, and he doesn’t know if it’s the heat of the water clouding his better judgment, or the fact that they haven’t seen each other long enough for him to be desperate, but for whatever reason, he stops digging his nails into his own skin nervously and instead finally reaches out to cup Ryuji’s cheek. It’s something he can admit he’s thought about doing more than _a few times_ , and maybe he’s already done it before in a different situation, but never in a context that was this _intimate_.

Ryuji flinches, but he doesn’t turn or pull away. That’s probably a good sign, Akira figures, allows himself to go on, lets his fingers trail over the hot, wet skin of his best friend’s face, buries them in the short, blond hair, combs through the cold streaks tenderly.

Something tells him it’s now or never, so without further hesitation, he leans in, closes his eyes and kisses the corner of his best friend’s lips, shivers at the uncontrolled moan he gets in return, swallows hard when he’s grabbed by the shoulders, pressed against the tiled wall and _kissed back_.

For a moment, it’s like he’s melting under the touch. His legs feel weak, he hums desperately, tries to lean in further but is held back, one hand holding him against the wall, the other cupping the back of his head, fingers buried in his messy hair, nails digging into the skin lightly. It’s like a dream come true, but better, and just when he’s ready to fully give in to it...

It’s over.

They’re both panting heavily, the water still cooling down their bodies, hearts racing. Akira wants to lean back in, but Ryuji holds him back easily.

"D-dude.”

He’s blushing furiously, stuttering, scowling.

"N'offense but, like...shouldn’t we at least be _dressed_ while doin’ this?”

Akira has to hold himself back from saying _No, why?_ in return, because even though he’s undeniably thirsty for what he’s seeing — hard muscle, droplets of water falling from hair onto skin and trailing down to Ryuji’s chin, reddened cheeks, trembling lips—

He’s still got _some_ decency in himself. A little, at least.

So instead of saying anything, he nods, lets go and closes his eyes to calm down, still leaning against the shower wall. It takes his mind a moment to catch up on what’s going on, but he finds himself smiling thinly when it does.

All the tension he’s been feeling before seems to crumble off him, washed away by the hot, steamy water, the sound of it hitting the floor, the smell of shower gel reminding him that _maybe_ he should do what he initially came here for: shower.

It’d be a lie to say that it isn’t a little awkward. His thoughts are still revolving around his body being pressed against the tiles, around strong arms holding him in place, soft, warm lips against his own…

Instinctively, he turns the water to cold, flinches and jumps away from it but endures it eventually, because like _hell_ is he going to let his hormones control him like that. He ignores the voice calling out for him almost aggressively, keeps his head under the now icy-cold water, and begs that it washes at least some of his naughty thoughts away.

It doesn’t, by the way.

Even so, he forces himself to get clean, and refuses to give his friend a single look before they’re both back in the — thank god, empty — changing room and at least wearing pants. That’s when Akira finally takes a deep breath, leans against the wall and shoots Ryuji a look, a little surprised to find him staring as well.

"I...shouldn’t have,” Akira starts shyly, aware that his feelings got the best of him, because even if the kiss was returned, he knows it came quite out of nowhere; not that he wouldn’t continue right where it stopped here on the spot, because he would.

"I-I mean,” Ryuji stammers, swallows and looks away, scratches the back of his head and shakes it in embarrassment. It’s adorable, really, and Akira can’t help but smile at it. Even if it’s sappy, he won’t deny loving _everything_ about Ryuji, and this isn’t an exception.

"I ain’t complainin’, just, uh...confused?”

He sure is, judging by how he swings his good leg back and forth, blushes and crosses his arms before his body as if to hide it. Honestly, though, it achieves the opposite, because Akira’s eyes are even more drawn to the muscle, the tanned skin, thoughts centered on how it would feel to walk over and be _right there_ , be _held_ by those arms and kissed senselessly—

He doesn’t necessarily _plan_ to walk over and initiate it, but before he can really think it through, he’s moving towards his best friend, the love of his short life, his _everything_. He comes to a halt right in front of where he’s sitting, looks down to where he turns his head back and looks up, blush deepening, hands shooting up in a poor attempt to keep a distance between them, but Akira knows better than to just lean in.

He keeps standing, keeps looking down, bites his lips at how Ryuji shifts on the bench nervously and tries to stutter something but fails. It’s a good sight, somehow arousing, and Akira believes he might get used to it, but before he gets the chance to, there’s hands on his hips; shy, explorative, and almost carefully pulling him down.

Needless to say, he gives in without even a second of hesitation, lets his knees rest on both sides of Ryuji’s thighs, wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him closer for another kiss; a proper one, at last.

It’s a little clumsy at first, almost awkward, but at the same time so _good_ that Akira can’t bring himself to care. He hums into the kiss, nips at Ryuji’s lower lip, sinks into his lap and leans their foreheads together in a desperate attempt to get even closer. Wet hair falls into their faces, drops of water or sweat or both running down their skin. If it were a dream, Akira would promptly name it the best one he’d ever had.

"A...Akira?”

Ryuji’s voice is weak against his lips, vibrates and makes him shiver, and even though it’s the last thing he wants to do, Akira pulls away and tilts his head, eyes lidded and mouth wide open, panting heavily. Maybe he’s too invested, too _eager_ , but he’s been waiting for this moment for months, and he’s not going to let go of it just like that.

"Th-this ain’t what I meant by, uh...dressed, y’know?”

Ryuji looks down on them and Akira lets his eyes follow. _Touché_ , to be honest, because they’re still hardly wearing anything — and that’s not even mentioning the fact that anyone could walk in on them right here. Even so, he’s hesitant to let go, already longing to lean in for another kiss. He looks back up and brushes their noses together as if to ask for permission.

"Y-yeah, I guess.” Ryuji nods, bites his lip and looks into his eyes. Akira immediately loses himself in the warm, dark amber, the insecurity, and feels another shiver run down his spine. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and buries his nose in the blond streaks, purrs contentedly and shakes his head at how it tickles his nose.

"We could get out of here, if you want?” he suggests quietly, although not entirely pleased with the idea. If they do, the first thing on the list is to go meet Futaba and Sojiro, and as much as he’s missed them — really, he _has_ — there’s quite a list of other things he’d like to do right now, all of them including Ryuji and himself, preferably not any more dressed than they are right now, preferably on top of each other.

He sighs at his own uselessness.

"Sounds...sounds good, yeah,” Ryuji agrees but doesn’t let go, his hands still resting on Akira’s hips, holding him close, fingers subconsciously playing with the waistband and pulling on it slightly.

"Soon...ish?” he adds, and it sounds almost like a question, an invitation even, and one that Akira is entirely willing to accept.

"Soonish is good,” he agrees, pulls away just enough to lean in for another kiss. It’s better, less clumsy, and a little more heated, has him moaning against the lips on his own. If time were to stop now, he’d probably be thankful, because it’s the best thing he’s ever experienced.

His nails dig into the skin on Ryuji’s back, graze down and _definitely_ leave marks that Akira won’t deny he’d love to see; then again, if that means having to break the kiss, it’s not worth it, at least not right now. Hands trace up his back curiously, make him groan and lean into it. Maybe his family can wait for him a little longer, just until he’s gotten enough of this to last him through the night—

Except right there, right then, his phone rings, and for some reason, he knows _exactly_ why. He breaks the kiss immediately, takes a deep breath and feels the heat creeping up on his cheeks.

"Who—?”

"Futaba.”

He gets up and reaches for his bag, only to find out he was right. There’s three new messages, all of them from her, and he’s almost scared of opening the chat, but does it anyway.

 

**_From: Sakura Futaba_ **

_22:36: Akiraaaaa I swear to God!_

_22:36: I let you thirst over your boyfriend for, like, an hour._

_22:36: But I swear if my ears have to hear anyMORE THAN THIS I WILL END YOU BOTHh!! >_> _

 

"Boyfriend?”

He almost drops his phone when he hears Ryuji’s voice so unexpectedly close to his ear.

"She said it, not me.”

Although he can’t deny he likes the sound of it.

The way home feels unusually long, but at least they wordlessly decide to walk it together. It’s innocent, shy, a little insecure, but Akira dares, every now and then, to let his fingers brush against Ryuji’s, to caress them and maybe, just slightly, tries his luck with how far he can go.

It takes a while, but eventually, he gets a response. First, Ryuji bumps their shoulders together lightly; that’s not out of the ordinary. But then he stays close, grabs Akira’s hand gingerly and doesn’t let go.

When they finally leave the Yongen-Jaya station and head home, the day has _already_ been more fulfilling than Akira could have ever dreamed of. And yet before they ring the doorbell, before they leave the intimacy of it being _just the two of them_ , he stops, takes Ryuji’s other hand, too, smiles and pulls him in for a peck on the cheek, close enough to his lips to count, far enough to be modest and considerate.

"I missed you,” he murmurs lovingly, returns the hug he feels himself pulled into, and allows himself to stay like that until—

Until the door _flies_ open and Futaba shouts:

" _G_ _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!”_

Ryuji lets go immediately, points at her with shock written all over his face, but honestly, Akira wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I missed you too, Futaba.”

Happily, she jumps into his open arms, hugs him tightly and cries.

Even more than ever, he can’t wait for the day where he’ll finally stay for good. Until then, this will be enough.


End file.
